


sometimes I wonder if you tell him that you're missing me

by Shadowcrawler, unwindmyself



Series: follow me down the rabbit hole [15]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Cunnilingus, F/F, Feelings, Femslash, Heart-to-Heart, Hurt/Comfort, Implied/Referenced Polyamory, Light Dom/sub, Vaginal Fingering
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-14
Updated: 2018-04-14
Packaged: 2019-04-22 17:09:20
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,226
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14313327
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowcrawler/pseuds/Shadowcrawler, https://archiveofourown.org/users/unwindmyself/pseuds/unwindmyself
Summary: Jemma and Daisy are feeling a lot.





	sometimes I wonder if you tell him that you're missing me

**Author's Note:**

> First off: canon het is bad. We are even more displeased with Fitz than we have been in the past, which is saying a lot, but he's literally being the worst. Sorry not sorry. So we do what we can to fix it with polyamory. Have you seen Jemma's fingers in recent episodes? Can you prove she's still wearing her wedding ring? ...probably, but imagine. It's a simple small thing to change for the better. We are also really not thrilled with how they are handling Jemma's reactions to Fitz in canon, or anyone's reactions to Daisy reacting to Fitz in canon, so we are fixing that aggressively.
> 
> Second: this takes place before 5.15. 
> 
> Third: Imagine, if you will, General Hale and her troops going to raid the Playground while our heroes are off in space. She scours all of the rooms looking for clues about how SHIELD is icky and then, in Daisy's and Jemma's rooms, come across extensive collections of bondage and fetish gear. Imagine the look on General Hale's face. She is without words.

It’s quiet here at night, Jemma has realized, which unfortunately translates to _too_ quiet. It’s not like the Playground, which always seemed to be in motion, someone coming or going or just wandering; it’s certainly not like the Bus, which was _literally_ always in motion, and small enough that you could always sort of hear where everyone else was if you tried. Here, though? Here the bedrooms of sort are spread out, the walls are fortress-thick, and everyone seems to be tiptoeing around for one reason or another.

It wasn’t so noticeable with someone beside her in bed, breathing softly, radiating warmth, but add that to the list of things that have gone tits up in recent days.

At first she’s resigned to just lying in bed, staring at the ceiling, making lists in her head, trying to listen for whispers of the ocean in the distance, even resorting to pulling up soft classical music on her phone and letting it lull her to sleep. But the music always ends, and it’s fine until she wakes in the middle of the night and there’s nothing anymore, just silence so thick she can feel it and on top of that some demented patchwork of horror and guilt.

She can let one night of this go by, even two, but the third is somehow too absurd, and there’s a solution she can at least try for.

So she pulls her clothes back on, or just enough of her clothes that if Coulson or May should catch her wandering the hallways she won’t be embarrassed, and starts toward Daisy’s room, rehearsing what she’ll say in her head the whole way. Of course, this means that when she knocks and Daisy calls “Hello?” all of the careful words disappear and she squeaks out, “Jemma. It, it’s Jemma.”

Daisy opens the door a second later, looking a bit the worse for wear herself. “Hey,” she says, blinking at Jemma. “What’s up?”

“I can’t sleep,” Jemma mumbles, although that’s obvious.

“You wanna come in?” Daisy asks, stepping back and opening the door a bit more. “I haven’t really slept much either.”

“Yes,” Jemma says. “I mean, to coming in. If you don’t mind.” She’s practically wringing her hands at this point.

“C’mere,” Daisy says, ushering Jemma inside and guiding her toward the bed. Once they’re both seated, she’s quiet a moment, and then she says, “You thinking about Fitz too?”

It’s not a surprising question, but it makes Jemma’s throat close up all the same, and she nods once and then twice before she finds the strength to choke out, “I’m so sorry, Daisy.”

“For what?” Daisy sighs. “It wasn’t you. It was _him_.” She spits the word “him.”

“For everything,” Jemma whispers. She’s sitting by now, but she can’t look Daisy in the eye. “For his being here in the first place. For trying to see the best in him. For thinking I could be with him, that I could fix him.” She takes a ragged breath. “For not being able to stop him.”

“Have you talked to him? Since he…” Daisy shakes her head. She doesn’t want to say it out loud.

Jemma nods, ashamed. “A little bit,” she says. “I know it’s bad of me, but I… I wanted to hear if he would apologize.”

Daisy snorts. “Didn’t exactly seem like he was going to when I talked to him. But you’re different.”

“No, I’m not,” Jemma mutters. “I never was, not really. I just hoped I might be, and maybe he hoped it too. Maybe that’s why he was keeping this a secret.”

Daisy puts one arm around Jemma and pulls her close. “I’m pretty sure he was keeping this a secret because he’s a controlling dickbag who’s out for himself, but.” She shrugs.

Jemma buries her face against Daisy’s shoulder and wraps her arms around Daisy’s waist tight as she can without being stifling. “That’s why I’m sorry,” she manages to say. “I couldn’t keep that from getting out. I couldn’t stop that from hurting you.”

“It’s not your fault,” Daisy says, though she sounds a bit resigned. “You’re not the one who strapped me to a table and cut into my neck.” She uses her other hand to brush over the place where Fitz removed the inhibitor. It’s still swollen, but it’s stopped aching _quite_ as much as before.

“No, but I should have made him stop,” Jemma insists, blinking back tears. It’s not fair of her to cry about this, not when Daisy’s the one in pain, but she can’t help herself. “I should have seen this coming and… I don’t know. I shouldn’t have let it happen at all.”

“If you’d tried to do anything else, he would’ve had his robot shoot you,” Daisy points out.

There’s a part of Jemma that wants to say something about how she should have let it if it would have stopped him doing that, but there’s no point. It would just keep going around in circles, and that wouldn’t be good for either of them.

Instead she pulls back a little and starts rubbing slow circles on Daisy’s back. “Can I do anything for you?” she asks softly, because that’s safe.

Daisy makes an uncertain noise. “I don’t know,” she sighs. “This is nice, I guess? It’s nice having you here.”

“I can do this,” Jemma murmurs. “I want to be here, as long as you want me.”

Daisy shuts her eyes and relaxes as much as she can into Jemma. She’s not fully relaxed - she’s fairly sure she hasn’t been _fully_ relaxed since before the Framework bullshit - but having Jemma here, touching her and grounding her, does help.

Similarly, Jemma is fairly sure she’s been incapable of relaxing anymore, but if she can help Daisy be, at least some? That’s enough for her. She keeps stroking Daisy’s back, nuzzling her gently, and after a minute she whispers, “Would you like more? Rubbing?”

That makes Daisy laugh. It feels a little weird, to laugh, like everything isn’t fucked up. “Like what?”

“I was specifically asking if you wanted a proper massage,” Jemma says, sounding surprisingly shy, “but I suppose you can take it however you like. I just…” She sighs, mostly aggravated at her own inability to communicate these things properly. “I wanna take care of you.”

“Aw.” Daisy smiles and leans against Jemma. “Thanks, honey. A massage sounds nice, if you’re up for it.”

“I am,” Jemma promises. “I like being able to make you happy.” To make up for all of the recent sadness, but that doesn’t need to be said.

“Thank you,” murmurs Daisy, kissing Jemma’s cheek. “D’you want my shirt on or off?”

Jemma blushes and shrugs. “Up to you,” she says. It’s easier with her shirt off, they both know that, but she doesn’t want to be pushy.

Daisy gently disentangles herself from Jemma’s arms, tugs off her shirt, tosses it away, and then arranges herself belly down on the bed. “Alright,” she says. “I’m good to go.”

“Okay,” Jemma hums. She takes a long moment to just appreciate the sight of half-naked Daisy, appreciate her beauty and appreciate the fact that she still gets to be around her beauty after all of the horrid things, before she moves closer. “Can I… straddle?”

“‘Course,” murmurs Daisy. “Sounds nice.”

Jemma almost, _almost_ points out that she only asked because she didn’t want to do anything that would make Daisy feel confined, but she figures if that’s not already an issue bringing it up would make it one. Instead she leverages herself and sits over Daisy’s hips, her legs running parallel to Daisy’s, and after getting herself well and truly comfortable she leans down to start rubbing Daisy’s back. “Anywhere particular?”

Daisy shakes her head, closing her eyes again. “Anywhere you want. ‘S all nice.”

“Okay,” Jemma repeats. She starts at Daisy’s lower back, then, working her hands gently up Daisy’s spine and feeling for tense spots - or, rather, especially tense ones, since Daisy’s wound rather (understandably) tight. She doesn’t go too, too hard yet, because she wants to ease into it, but she does murmur, sort of without thinking, “It’s nice using my hands for things I like.”

Chuckling, Daisy asks, “As opposed to…?”

Jemma shrugs, but she’s glad Daisy doesn’t see the flash of melancholy that crosses her face. “The kinds of life-saving things that I’m glad to do because I’m glad to help but it’s awful that they need to be done at all,” she says. “Or things I don’t want to do under any circumstances but have to do anyway.” She leaves out the third category, things that are done because it’s right to want to do them, because she knows Daisy will know what that means and it’s not fair to bring up.

“Mmm,” says Daisy. “I wasn’t expecting you to have that much of an answer.”

“I’ve been saving up answers to questions I’m not expecting to get asked,” Jemma admits, trying to keep her tone light and not needlessly bitter. Daisy is one of the only ones she’s not bitter _at_ , that wouldn’t be fair.

Nodding, Daisy says, “Sounds about right. Any-” She cuts herself off when Jemma hits a particularly rough spot and hisses. Then she says, “Any you want me to ask?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jemma says, as a reflex, and then she corrects herself, adding, “Whichever you have, if you’re so inclined. It’s knowing that you care enough about me to ask that matters most.”

“Okay,” murmurs Daisy. “Just wanna make sure you’re okay too.”

“I’m not sure I’m going to be okay for a long time,” Jemma sighs. “But I haven’t curled up in a ball yet, for long anyway, so that’s something.” It’s also her attempt at a self-deprecating joke.

Daisy whines sympathetically. “Sorry.”

“Not your fault,” Jemma replies, and she works at a knot in Daisy’s shoulder for a minute before continuing. “As ever, you’re one of the only things keeping me going. Not meant as pressure.”

“I get it,” whispers Daisy. “Same to you.”

“Good,” Jemma says softly. “Not that I’m one of the only, but that… that I can be at all. I want to help you how I can.”

“Thank you,” sighs Daisy. “I know. You’re great, okay?”

“You are,” Jemma counters, humming in concentration as she digs into another knot. “You’re my hero, cheesy as it sounds, and…” _If I had it to do over again I’d choose you loudly and openly_. “And I wish things were different but I want them to be as good as they can be.”

Daisy’s about to answer, but instead she groans as Jemma works at the knot. Once she feels like she can speak again, she says, “I mean, I apparently cracked the earth in half, not sure I’m exactly hero material.”

Jemma scoffs. “That’s a bloody lie,” she says indignantly. “I don’t know what did happen, but it wasn’t, isn’t, that. All we really have to go on is the word of a lying psychopath from, quite literally, outer space and the hearsay and rumors passed down through the generations.”

In response, Daisy makes the sort of noise that means she wants to believe what Jemma’s saying, but she can’t let herself. “Thanks,” she murmurs. “I just...y’know.”

“I know,” Jemma murmurs. “But no matter what, it’s not guaranteed. Alright?”

“No fate but what we make,” Daisy recites. “It’s corny, but it kinda helps.”

“It does,” Jemma agrees, smiling softly. She kneads over some of Daisy’s muscles for a minute before asking, “Does this, too?”

“Yeah,” Daisy says, or more accurately sighs. “That’s _really_ nice.”

“Good,” Jemma says. “I… I like being here. Feeling your skin, watching you react. Hearing you breathe. Just being with you.”

“Sappy much?” teases Daisy, but she’s smiling. “But yeah, I’ve missed stuff like this.”

“It’s easy to be sappy with you,” Jemma replies, and then, after a moment, “I’ve missed it too. I’m sorry.” For everything, still, but she’s referring specifically to the more personal recent events.

“You didn’t know,” Daisy says. “None of us knew. I mean, it’s just like with Ward, none of us even considered it, and then…”

“And then,” Jemma sighs. “But I mean… I shouldn’t have…” She trails off, letting her bare left hand rest on Daisy’s shoulder.

“Seriously, it’s not like he was dropping hints that he was secretly a sociopathic Nazi,” Daisy points out.

“I mean I shouldn’t have… I don’t know why I m… ma…” Jemma wrinkles her nose. She can’t get the word out, which is foolish, but she doesn’t just mean because of what Fitz became.

Daisy’s quiet a minute, then she says gently, “Hey, I totally get it, okay? Shit happens.”

“But that’s all it was,” Jemma mumbles. “Shit happening. It was, it was poorly planned and we hadn’t thought and _I_ hadn’t thought and I, I didn’t mean for anything to change with us but I still should have, I should have been clearer. I shouldn’t have gotten so...swept up.”

“It’s really okay,” Daisy says. “Promise. I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jemma says, leaning to kiss Daisy’s shoulder. “I know that even when everything else is so baffling.”

Daisy hums. “Thanks, honey. You’re good to me.”

“I want to be,” Jemma says. “Always.”

“Oh, by the way...not to be weird about this, but is your marriage even legal? This isn’t even me being jealous, I’m wondering if Coulson can legally marry people or if he was just bullshitting.”

Jemma snorts ungracefully, she can’t help it. “Fuck,” she murmurs, laughing despite herself. “I hadn’t even thought of that. I’m honestly not sure, actually?” She sits back a little and shakes her head. “I’m not sure what the standards are for directors of American-based government agencies, let alone ones that are technically criminals.”

“Sorry.” Daisy tilts her head so Jemma can see her grin. “Had to ask.”

“I think at this point, it’s hardly something to be sorry about,” Jemma declares.

“So have you guys…?” Daisy trails off, because “fucked” is too blunt, “made love” is too gross, and “consummated the marriage” is just not something anyone actually says.

Jemma laughs again, even though it’s clearly not funny. “Guess.”

“Nope?”

“Precisely,” Jemma says. “I mean, there was barely time to sleep between the so-called wedding and… you know. If there’s not time to sleep, there’s _definitely_ not time to sleep together.” She wrinkles her nose and admits, “We haven’t actually… that since before the Framework.”

“Geez.” Daisy makes an indignant noise. “I mean, we’ve all been busy, but it’s good for you and shit. Not that I’m, y’know, shocked that it wasn’t high on his priority list.”

“I mean, it’s never really been high on his priority list, beyond wanting to please me,” Jemma says with a shrug, rather missing the point of Daisy’s comment.

“Which is fine, I know it’s not really his thing, but it seems like lately especially he hasn’t really given much of a shit about what you want,” Daisy points out. “Which is. Not great, Bob.”

Jemma shrugs, so sheepish it’s self-deprecating. “I think he likes me better as an idea than an actuality,” she sighs.

“Ew,” groans Daisy. “Because _that’s_ an ideal relationship. No offense meant to you, I’m calling him out.”

“I mean, it’s just a theory,” Jemma mumbles. “But it seems about right. He proposes to me like we’re a bad episode of _Doctor Who_ , marries me because it seems the right thing to do, then tries to push me away for my own good because he’s such a monster, or what have you. Which really isn’t unlike _Who_ either, come to think of it. But not in the way you’d want.”

“Well, yeah, but Amy and Rory worked it all out, didn’t they?” Daisy laughs. “I dunno, I mostly remember you yelling during those last few episodes with them because you were mad.”

“It was awful writing,” Jemma defends, even though she’s also laughing. “But his selfishness has one advantage, I suppose?”

“What’s that?” Daisy asks, sounding confused.

“Well, you and I have been intimate more than once in that interim,” Jemma reminds. “So in that way and many, many others, you’re winning.”

That makes Daisy snort. “Well, thanks,” she says smugly. “Glad to help you out there.”

“You always do,” Jemma replies, suddenly sentimental. “You know, I think I actually had an easier time resigning myself to being without _him_ , up there, in the future…” She shakes her head, trying to reroute her words. “It was easier to say ‘he’s not coming, I’ll not be with him again’ to myself than it was to try to come to terms with the fact that I might never get to be in your arms again? That I, I might not hear your voice.”

Daisy lets out a little sigh. “Geez, you had to go and throw feelings in there,” she teases. But then she adds, more seriously, “I’m glad we’re both here. Y’know, together.”

“I mean it,” Jemma says softly. “The hope that maybe, somehow, I’d earn that right again, it’s what kept me pressing on through some of those horrible moments. I imagined what would happen if only.” There’s a long pause before she adds, “I’m sorry it happened all wrong.”

“Hey, _you_ don’t have anything to be sorry for. It’s not like you knew where stuff was heading.”

“That’s not what I’m apologizing for,” Jemma insists. “I shouldn’t have needed saved in the first place. If I hadn’t, you wouldn’t have… and we’d have been able to get out of there quicker, maybe before _he_ even showed up swaggering like he thought he was suddenly some playboy space pirate.”

“Oh god,” giggles Daisy, “that’s a perfect description.”

“I mean, I know he was trying to put that on, to a point, but it should really have been a warning sign,” Jemma continues. “The worst of it was like he was trying to do cut-rate baby Han Solo, you know, but the more convincing parts, I mean, that was what was frightening. It came a little _too_ easy.”

Daisy nods. “I’m sorry.”

“You’ve nothing to be sorry for,” Jemma insists, and, like she’s only just now realizing that she’s given up massaging, she climbs off of Daisy’s hips and flops back against the bed with a sigh. “That’s what I’m saying. I made a mess of it, and _I’m_ sorry. I’m sorry I made things worse for you when all you do is make things better for me.”

Daisy rolls over so she’s facing Jemma and leans over to kiss her on the lips. “Hey,” she murmurs. “You weren’t sitting there in the restaurant like ‘wow, I sure wish I’d get sucked up into space and then taken captive by weird blue Ben Wa balls aliens,’ right?”

“No,” Jemma says, her gaze falling.

“So,” Daisy says, like it’s obvious, “you didn’t exactly make a mess of it on purpose, huh?”

“No,” Jemma repeats, “but if I’d been different somehow I could have stopped some of it from happening. You wouldn’t have had to go through any of this.”

“Honey. I’m pretty sure there’s literally _nothing_ you could have done to prevent any of that.”

“I didn’t have to let myself get taken like I did,” Jemma insists, eyes starting to water a little. “If I hadn’t tried to help that man, or if I’d been able to run, or… the only reason you wound up there was because I’d gotten stuck. We didn’t both have to be in hell.”

Daisy shrugs. “It happened. We made it out. I’m not mad. I mean, I’m mad at Deke, fuck that guy, but not at you.”

“Deke is a twat,” Jemma declares, laughing even as a tear slips down her cheek. “And not in the fun way.”

“Nope,” Daisy says, laughing too. “He’s just the _worst_. Anyway. I promise, it’s not your fault, okay?”

“Okay,” Jemma echoes. “It’s just…”

“I know,” Daisy says, stroking Jemma’s hair. “I get it, believe me.”

“Thank you,” Jemma sighs, her voice and body shuddering. “I just, I’d rather have baby-stepped through that silent nightmare forever than have let any of those horrors near you.”

“I mean, I’d prefer you didn’t,” Daisy says. “But thanks, I think?”

“You’re welcome,” Jemma whispers, and before she can second-guess herself she curls into Daisy’s chest, one arm thrown over her waist. “I’d rather get to be with you than _that_ , so.”

“Of course,” Daisy says, pulling Jemma close. “This is nice.”

“It is,” Jemma agrees. “You’re beautiful, every part of you.”

“You too,” whispers Daisy. “Did you want anything? I mean, massage or whatever.”

“Whatever you want to give,” Jemma says. “Just… just keep being here, alright?”

“Okay.” Daisy rubs her back for a second. “Kissing, maybe?”

“Yes, please.”

So Daisy leans forward to kiss Jemma, gentle at first and then a little less gentle. “This okay?” she gasps after a minute.

“Yes,” Jemma repeats. Her pupils are totally blown at this point, which is no surprise. “Keep going.”

So Daisy does, kissing Jemma’s lips at first and then slowly moving to her jaw and neck. “How’s this?” she asks, nipping at Jemma’s neck playfully.

“Uh-huh,” Jemma whimpers, pawing at Daisy greedily. “I’m yours.”

“You want more?” Daisy asks, grinning because it’s clear she does.

“Yes,” Jemma says. “Please? I… I like that so much.”

“You want me to take some of this off?” Daisy offers, tugging on Jemma’s shirt.

“If you wanna,” Jemma murmurs shyly.

“I do.” Gently, Daisy works the shirt over Jemma’s head and then tosses it aside. “Pants too?”

“Yeah,” Jemma agrees. “I wanna be, I wanna be yours. Is that okay?”

Daisy nods. “Little help?” she asks, nodding to Jemma’s sweatpants.

“Yeah,” Jemma repeats, pushing herself up so Daisy can ease her pants off.

And Daisy sits up to do so, stroking Jemma’s thighs affectionately as she goes. “You’re beautiful,” she says.

This makes Jemma whimper, though whether it’s the touch or the words or both is unclear. “You make me feel that way,” she murmurs, rolling her hips.

“Good,” Daisy says. “What do you feel like, mouth, fingers?”

“Anything,” Jemma says. “But I get to undress you first. Or you can undress yourself, if you want, but I… yes.” She shrugs sheepishly.

“Aw, sure.” Daisy shucks off sports bra and then nods at the drawstring on her pants. “Go on.”

Jemma bites her lips together as she reaches for the string. A part of her wants to take her time, a part of her wants it over with fast so they can be onto the rest, and what ends up happening is something in between. “God,” she whispers, “ _you’re_ beautiful.”

Daisy preens a little. “Thanks, honey.” She smiles. “Now, how do you want me to take care of you?”

“Thoroughly,” Jemma declares. “I really don’t care how beyond that. I want… I just want you close. Your touching me like I matter.”

“Of course you do,” says Daisy, leaning close to kiss Jemma’s neck while she starts to run her fingernails gently up and down Jemma’s thighs. “You’re so important to me.”

Jemma whimpers and shifts under Daisy’s touch, one hand wrapping around Daisy’s shoulders and the other resting on the bed behind her. “Some days I don’t know why,” she murmurs, “but I, I know you mean it. I know you want me to know it. Mostly that’s enough.”

“Well, I do mean it,” Daisy insists, moving her hand to start stroking Jemma’s center. “Promise.”

“Thank you,” Jemma breathes, and her body starts to waver slightly, like keeping somewhat upright is just too much work.

“You wanna lie down, honey?” Daisy asks.

“Could we?” Jemma whispers. “Might be easier.”

“Sure.” Daisy pulls Jemma down so they’re laying on their sides, face to face. “Here,” she says, reaching to touch Jemma again. “How’s that?”

“Good,” Jemma agrees. “Can I kiss you again?”

“Yeah,” murmurs Daisy. “I’d like that.”

So Jemma smiles and leans forward, pressing her lips to Daisy’s softly. She doesn’t want to be presumptuous, now even more than usual, but the contact seems vital.

Daisy hums against Jemma’s mouth, pulling her closer with one arm while the other works between Jemma’s legs. She doesn’t touch Jemma’s clit directly just yet, rubbing around it instead.

“Thank you,” Jemma whispers, rolling her hips. “Thank you, I… I’m lucky.”

“Me too, honey,” says Daisy. She leans in to kiss and suck at Jemma’s neck. “That okay?”

“Yeah,” Jemma says, nodding eagerly. “Feels nice. Feels… I haven’t been touched that way in a while. It feels novel.”

Daisy grins and shakes her head, even though it’s not really funny at all. “Glad I can help, then,” she says. She starts stroking Jemma’s clit slowly.

“That either,” Jemma murmurs. “It’s more than just helping, though, I promise. That sounds…” She shakes her head. “Helping sounds like favors, for this. It’s better if it’s, it’s more than. Does that make sense?” She’s fairly sure it doesn’t.

“It does,” Daisy agrees. “I know what you mean, I think.” She worries a spot on Jemma’s neck. “He doesn’t do this, does he?” There’s a smug note in her tone that she can’t help.

“Not often,” Jemma admits. Ever since she started in balancing the two of them, she’s tried her very hardest not to compare and especially not to admit comparisons (save the obvious things like how he’s not particularly interested in, or therefore good at, the kinky bits, which is something he’d admit himself so it’s not mean) but at this point she figures all bets are off. “You know how to find those _spots_.”

“Good,” says Daisy, satisfied. “I wanna be good to you.” She slips one finger inside Jemma while still rubbing her clit with another.

“You are,” Jemma promises, her hips jutting up against Daisy’s hand. “You always have been.”

“You too.” Daisy keeps moving her fingers, enjoying the little noises Jemma’s making. “This good?” She’s grinning as she asks; she already knows the answer.

“It is,” Jemma says breathily. “More?”

Daisy nods. “Of course, honey.” She keeps it up while leaning forward to kiss Jemma’s neck more.

“Could you…” Jemma scrunches up her nose, finds herself practically whispering. “Would you leave a mark? Not anywhere anyone could see, but.”

“Yeah, I was thinking about that, actually.” Daisy leans down to suck at the top of Jemma’s breast until she leaves a red mark. “You’re my girl,” she murmurs.

Jemma moans and nods, very seriously. “This isn’t for anyone else,” she says, “but I know it’s there. I know you left a trace of yourself on me and, and I want you to have done.” There’s the slightest of an edge in her voice, suggesting _unlike other people_. She’s been written on too much lately, one way or another, but she actually wants Daisy to do.

“Thank you, honey,” Daisy says. “I want you to feel good, okay?”

“I do with you,” Jemma says. “And… and you too, okay? I don’t want to be selfish.”

“Aw, thanks. You can take care of me after this,” Daisy says, still rubbing at Jemma.

“Okay,” Jemma says. “I want to. I miss…”

“Miss what?” Jemma’s pretty far gone, so Daisy’s mostly just teasing her a little.

Jemma shrugs, tracing patterns on Daisy’s skin idly. “Making you feel good,” she says with more effort than it should really require.

“You’re good at it,” Daisy promises. “Want more?”

“Uh-huh,” Jemma whimpers. “Please? Ma’am?”

Daisy nods and adds another finger, continuing to rub around Jemma’s clit at the same time as her fingers move.

“Thank you,” Jemma hums. “That’s so nice.” Understatement, obviously, but Daisy will understand.

Chuckling, Daisy says, “Good, you deserve to feel nice.”

“Why?” Jemma asks before she can stop herself.

“‘Cause you’re great,” Daisy insists. “Smart and good and kind and all that stuff.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says again, softer this time. “Keep… keep talking?” She’s feeling needy and insecure and also, dammit, she just wants to hear Daisy’s voice saying sweet things.

“You’re brave,” murmurs Daisy, “and you’re clever, and you could’ve gotten yourself out of trouble in space for sure if you’d had a bit longer, I know you could’ve.”

“You’re sweet,” Jemma sighs, rolling her hips lazily.

“I wanna be,” Daisy says. “You think you can come for me soon?”

“Soon,” Jemma echoes. “Just a little more?”

Daisy nods again. “Of course.” She continues to touch Jemma, kissing her on the lips.

And Jemma returns the kiss, moaning into Daisy’s mouth; by this point she’s pretty close to boneless against the mattress, but she can manage kissing at least. “Think I’m…”

“Good girl,” says Daisy, “c’mon, for me.”

“Say again?” Jemma begs, squeezing her eyes shut.

“You’re very good, honey,” Daisy repeats, “you’re the best girl and I love you.”

“I love you too,” Jemma gasps, and she tips right over the edge, shuddering and all but yelling as she does.

Daisy kisses her again to muffle her noises as much as possible, holding Jemma close through her orgasm and then letting her melt against her. “Good?” she asks playfully.

“Good,” Jemma agrees, or anyway she tries to - it’s less of a word and more of a sound with that obvious intention, but that’s not out of the ordinary by this point.

Smiling, Daisy runs her hand down Jemma’s cheek. “You’re so pretty.”

Jemma beams, arching against Daisy’s hand. “You,” she replies. “Pretty an’ sweet.”

“Thanks,” Daisy says, giving her a kiss. “How you doing?”

“Warm,” Jemma says, shrugging sheepishly. She means it in more than one way, and she expects Daisy will understand.

That makes Daisy laugh, but not in a mean way. “You’re cute,” she says, stroking Jemma’s hair.

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs. “Thank you for, for loving every part of me, and for wanting.”

“Always,” says Daisy. “Promise.” She just keeps gently touching Jemma for a little while before saying, “So, once you’re, y’know, up for it, do you wanna return the favor? It’s okay if you don’t.”

“Yes!” Jemma exclaims, sounding almost indignant. “I want you to feel good too. I want to see you feeling good because of how I touch you.” She realizes that could sound a little pointed after she says it (since Daisy’s current sadness largely stems from feeling bad because of how _someone_ touched her and all), but she brushes past in hopes it doesn’t ruin the mood.

The phrasing doesn’t bother Daisy at all - and even if it did, she’d know what Jemma meant. “Aw,” she coos. “I mean, you can take a sec, I’ll be fine.”

“Okay,” Jemma says, stretching out a little to make sure she has control of her body again. “What do you want, though? I mean, how?”

“Mmm, dunno,” Daisy murmurs lazily. “Feel like using your mouth?”

“Yes, please,” Jemma hums. “Would you, ah, would you…” She blushes a little and glances down. “Direct me a little?” She wants Daisy to take charge, she wants to keep listening to Daisy’s voice, it’s a simple solution. She’s just a little bit embarrassed about having to request what’s usually pretty normal for them.

Daisy nods. “Sure, honey, I can do that.” She rolls over onto her back and grins at Jemma. “C’mere for a kiss first.”

“Okay,” Jemma says eagerly, moving up beside Daisy without actually getting on top of her (unless she’s directly invited, that feels too strange) and kissing her on the lips.

Humming happily, Daisy kisses Jemma back and then whispers, “How about you play with these a little first?” She arches her back, as if it’s not clear what she meant.

“You know I want to,” Jemma murmurs, leaning in to kiss Daisy’s tits gently.

That makes Daisy gasp and wiggle against Jemma’s mouth. “That feels so nice,” she sighs.

“Good,” Jemma mumbles, her mouth still halfway around Daisy’s nipple.

“Stay there as long as you want,” says Daisy. “I know you like doing this.”

“I do,” Jemma agrees, shutting her eyes as she kisses all over one breast and then the other. “You’re so soft.”

Daisy giggles. “Thank you, I think.”

“I mean it in the good way,” Jemma promises, lifting her head to look into Daisy’s eyes.

“Oh, I know,” Daisy says, smiling at her. “You’re just cute, the way you say things.”

“How’s that?” Jemma asks, nuzzling Daisy’s skin.

“I’ve just never been told that kind of stuff, I guess,” Daisy says with a shrug (or as much of one as she can do lying down). “It’s sweet.”

“Well, I’m glad I can tell you it, then,” Jemma decides. “You should hear it.”

“Thank you,” Daisy says, reaching to pet Jemma’s hair. “Anyway. Back to it.”

Jemma nods seriously, starting to tease a little lower, just over Daisy’s ribcage. She’s waiting for the direct go-ahead, but she’s getting a little impatient.

And Daisy can tell, so she grins down at Jemma and says, “You can use your tongue now.”

“Thank you,” Jemma murmurs, and she moves down to start licking at Daisy’s center, almost timid at first.

Daisy nods and shuts her eyes for a second. “You don’t have to go easy,” she says. “You’ve done this before.”

“I know,” Jemma says, “I just didn’t want to push.” But she speeds up some, humming against Daisy’s skin.

“You’re not,” Daisy murmurs, moving against Jemma’s tongue. “There you go, like _that_.”

“Okay,” Jemma whispers. “You’re my favorite.”

“You too,” agrees Daisy. “And you’re a very good girl.”

That makes Jemma whimper and shift her attention to Daisy’s clit, sucking on it as a thank you.

Daisy moans. “That’s so good, keep going.”

“Okay,” Jemma repeats, and she does.

Daisy’s hips start to move against Jemma’s mouth, and she lets out a loud whimper.

For a while, Jemma just focuses on getting more of those sounds. She wants to earn them, and she wants Daisy to get to feel the way that they imply she feels. She holds Daisy’s thighs, mostly because she hasn’t been told she isn’t allowed to right now, and she hums against Daisy’s skin, and she just _lavishes_ attention.

“Thank you,” sighs Daisy, “that’s good, you’re so good…”

“Wan’ be,” Jemma mumbles, practically burying her face in Daisy.

It doesn’t take too much longer before Daisy climaxes, letting out a deep groan and rolling her hips against Jemma. “God,” she murmurs once she’s done, “you’re wonderful, honey.”

“Thank you,” Jemma says, wistful as anything. “More snuggles?”

Daisy nods. “Come up here.”

So Jemma does, wiggling up the bed as best she can when she’s still half-floppy. “I’m messy,” she declares, licking her lips and giggling.

That makes Daisy giggle too as she pulls her close for a kiss. “I like it,” she says, grinning, “means you’re mine.”

“I am,” Jemma agrees, trying to be serious and utterly failing. “You taste nice, also.”

“Aw.” Daisy kisses Jemma’s cheek. “Thanks, you’re sweet.”

“I wanna be,” Jemma says, draping an arm over Daisy’s waist. “You deserve all of the sweetness imaginable.”

Nuzzling against Jemma, Daisy mumbles, “Love you.”

“Love you too,” Jemma says. “It’s peaceful with you.”

Daisy chuckles. “Good. I think. It’s nice just chilling here with you.”

“I mean it as a good,” Jemma assures. “Because it is nice. It’s… it’s like nothing else matters.”

“Yeah,” agrees Daisy, reaching to pet Jemma’s hair. “Thanks for being here with me.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Jemma says. “I… I don’t like being alone without you.”

Daisy wraps her other arm around Jemma. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“I dunno, just...stuff.” Daisy shrugs awkwardly.

“Don’t be,” Jemma murmurs. “Or, I don’t know, you can feel however you want, I can’t tell you what to do, but I can’t fathom you wasting too much time pitying me when you’ve done nothing wrong and so many damn things right.”

Daisy laughs. “I mean, you’re in the minority there, so.”

“The minority?” Jemma asks, not sure which part of that to react to and clearly feeling rather silly about it.

“It’s not like there are a lot of people lining up to tell me what a great and non-world-crack-y job I’m doing.”

“Well, they’re idiots,” Jemma says, kissing Daisy’s cheek. “You’re great and you do great things every single day and they’re… they believed a story. History is, unfortunately, written by the victors, though.” She wrinkles her nose. “And if it makes you feel any better, I don’t think your powers would have created the kinds of cracks in the world that we saw had been created.”

Daisy makes a non-committal noise and kisses Jemma on the lips again. “Not really up for talking about it too much right now,” she admits. “You wanna sleep?”

“It’s okay,” Jemma promises. “I’ve been thinking about it, and it slipped out, but we don’t need to say any more. Let’s just…” She tugs on the blankets. “Sleep. Could we spoon?”

“Don’t worry, I get it,” Daisy says with a smile. “But yeah, that sounds good.” She rolls over onto her side, letting Jemma nestle into her as the little spoon. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Jemma agrees. “I like, I like being close to you. Safe and warm.”

“I like it too,” murmurs Daisy, reaching to switch off her bedside lamp. “Good night, Jem.”

“Night, Daisy. Love you.”

“Love you too.” The smile is obvious in Daisy’s voice.


End file.
